Page 40 of Brotan

I smile, intoxicated by the power of reducing this dangerous man to incoherence with just my touch. "I want to taste you. Like you tasted me."

I reach for him, but he catches my wrist with a strangled groan, gently pulling my hand away. He guides me back onto the bed, following me down.

"Did I do something wrong?" I ask, uncertainty cutting through desire.

He shakes his head, eyes dark with need. "If I let you do that, this will be over before it begins. I've been wanting you for too long. I need to be inside you first."

"So demanding," I tease, though anticipation thrums through me. "I like this side of you. Always so controlled before. But not now."

"You have no idea what you do to me," he growls. "How hard it is not to just take what I want."

"Then take it," I challenge, tracing the sharp line of his jaw. "I'm not afraid of what you want."

He moves with fluid strength, positioning himself above me. His body creates a shelter, his arms bracketing my head. I feel strangely safe beneath all that power, all that potential for violence now harnessed for pleasure.

He brushes hair from my face, a gesture so tender it creates a lump in my throat. The contrast between this gentleness and his strength stirs emotions I can't put into words.

"Promise to tell me if I hurt you," he says, concern evident despite his commanding tone.

"I will," I promise, tracing the scar bisecting his eyebrow. "I trust you."

The blunt pressure of him against my entrance steals further words. He pushes forward slowly, giving my body time to accept him. The stretch burns, intense enough to make me gasp, but he watches my face carefully, ready to stop at any sign of discomfort.

"Breathe, Maya," he murmurs, cupping my face. "Just breathe."

I focus on filling my lungs, on relaxing. He inches forward, restraint visible in his trembling arms and jaw. When he's fully seated inside me, we both go still, adjusting to the sensation of being joined so intimately.

His forehead drops to mine, our breaths mingling. "You feel so good," he whispers, and the naked honesty in his voice pierces something deep within my chest.

I cradle his face between my palms, struck by what I see in his eyes—not just desire, but something more vulnerable. Fear, hope, and something deeper neither of us is ready to name.

He begins to move, setting a rhythm that tells me more about him than words ever could. Every thrust is controlled, deliberate, giving pleasure rather than taking it. I roll my hips to meet him, taking him deeper.

As he moves, I gasp at the unexpected sensation. The ridges I'd traced with my fingers now create an entirely different experience, each one catching and stimulating nerves I didn't know existed. Every withdrawal and advance sends cascading waves of pleasure through me, the textured surface creating friction unlike anything I've experienced with a human lover.

"Oh god," I breathe, understanding dawning. "The ridges..."

A knowing smile crosses his face, his eyes darkening with satisfaction. "Evolution's gift," he murmurs, adjusting his angle slightly. "Designed to make sure you feel every... single... inch."

"Fuck, Maya," he growls against my ear, voice rough with need. "So goddamn tight. Been wanting this since I first saw you."

His words send liquid heat flooding between my thighs. The unfiltered need in his voice, the way he can’t hide what he wants, makes me feel powerful in a way I’ve never experienced.

"Yes," I moan, my nails marking his back, claiming him as he claims me. "Harder, Crow. Don't hold back."

He shifts, changing the angle, and suddenly every thrust hits a spot deep inside that makes me cry out. The combination of his size, the perfect angle, and those incredible ridges creates a sensation so intense I feel myself climbing toward release far faster than I expected. Tension builds with each stroke, higher and tighter, until I’m teetering on the edge of release.

"That's it, baby," he murmurs. "Take all of me until you come so hard you forget your own name. Until I make you mine."

"I'm already yours," I confess, the words tumbling out uncensored. "Have been since that night in New York."

His pace quickens, each thrust deeper than the last. I hold tight to his shoulders as the world narrows to just this—his body moving inside mine, our breathing, the place where we're joined. His tusks graze my neck as he buries his face against my throat, a growl vibrating through his chest into mine.

"You feel so good," he groans, breath hot on my skin. "So perfect."

"Don't stop," I plead, pulling his mouth to mine for a bruising kiss, biting his lower lip just hard enough to sting. "Right there—just like that."

His gravelly voice and explicit words affect me more than any practiced touch. The ridges drag deliciously against my inner walls with each thrust, creating friction in places I never knew could feel so good. My inner muscles clench around him involuntarily.

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